Sunday Luncheons

Two lovely consecutive weekends have just passed here in LA . And two pleasant afternoons beside mesmerizing swimming pools. Michael Golob is a true artist and a man I admire. I worked with him during my time in movie advertising and he hosted a backyard barbecue, Memorial Day Weekend, at his family home in a quiet tree shaded corner of Burbank. We feasted on teriyaki chicken and chicken sausage, well, just about every kind of cookout dish imaginable. His sweetheart, Liz, made pies that were to die for and I saw one member of the assembly, who shall remain nameless, go back at least three times to partake of the different varieties. I stopped at one brownie, not being of the sweet toothed. It was a wonderful family affair.

Yesterday, in South Pasadena, The Waymouths, newly returned from Tibet and Nepal, regaled us with stories of drinking yak butter tea, of conch blowing, and of flushing out tigers in the long grass on the back of trumpeting elephants. We enjoyed a brief show of Nigel's elegant snapshots of monastic life in the thin air of the Himalayas. Marissa (née Roth), while waiting for the Leica engineered Kodachromes to come back from Kansas, put together a smoked salmon and bagel lunch with whipped cream cheese, capers, organic tomatoes and onions, washed down with Vouvray spritzers and a nice Bandol. Plenty of fizzy mineral water kept us cool. The finches clubbed around the bird feeder while we ate, and our hostess' gorgeous garden is on the verge of blooming big time, providing a beautiful backdrop to the dancing surface of the pool. I am so glad they are back, always something missing in my life when they are travelling. What a great summer it will be.